cross my heart; tell no lies

What happens of a man- one of whom, has lost all credibility? Does he grow old that way- with no one t care and no one t love, with no one t trust him? Does he spend the rest of his years, lonely, staring out at the sea, hoping, wishing, waiting? Does he take with him, buried under soil and white marble, the consequences for (like everyone else) the tendecy t falter in the early stages of adolescence? What happens t a man of such, i know not. What i know, alas, is the erect of the era we live in, one of immense unforgiveness, where the condoning of mistakes would be akin t losing the ability t cleanse oneself or t 'self purge'. More often that not, your past actions seem repeatedly drilled into your head, creating a barrier (invisible, although visible at the same time) re-evaluating your self-worth, and of course, the meanings of your promises.
'Promises mean nothing.' 'nothing', she says.

Death comes t all; it is hardly surprising, but solitude makes death seem a lucrative alternative. Some people choose t be alone; others, cursed. Cursed by acts of childish infidelity, losing their trustworthiness over a simple notion- (thinking back) of now an obviously shallow ridicule. Its funny how an act or two, sometimes by observation, or mere intuition, can barr a person from basic human relation trust and discredit so much of his/her words. Without trust, there is no possibility of harmonious cohabitation.

Its not too late t realise, within this society of mistrust,

Your credibility counts.

And redblooddrop, mine will.

You'll see.